


I run forever but I won't get far ('Cause if I don't have you I will starve)

by sailingtheLarryship



Category: One Direction (Band), The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - The Walking Dead Fusion, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Although Daryl is the only character I introduce from twd, Character Death, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Harry likes gun, Inspired by The Walking Dead, Liam was in the army, Louis uses a sword like michonne, M/M, Some Fluff, Violence, also beth greene comes in way at the end, and he has a fear of guns, but not too graphic, but probably not major, but there are mentions later of characters in twd, like maybe for the last couple of chapters, past tense tho, probably, um i'm not sure what else to tag this without giving away spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-25
Updated: 2015-02-25
Packaged: 2018-03-15 00:50:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3431948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sailingtheLarryship/pseuds/sailingtheLarryship
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>The world is dark around them. It’s been dark for a long time. Louis is sometimes sacred that he’ll forget what life was like before all this. Sometimes he fears that he won’t remember the way his mom used to smile at him over her cup of tea on Sunday mornings. Or the way there was always laughter to be heard in his childhood home, from five younger sisters and one little brother. Or the way it felt like living without simply existing. The way he could fall asleep at night and not wake up in a cold sweat, screaming or crying, or both. The way he didn’t always have to be scared that today is his last day and tomorrow is never a definite thing. He’s scared that time is infinite now, and because of that, he’s not even sure how long it’ll take him to forget. He’s scared that as infinite as time feels, his own is limited. Sometimes he’s sacred he’ll forget everything, that he’s already forgotten himself. Because the truth is that every time the world gets darker, Louis does too. And he can’t even remember the last time he felt something, smiled because he wanted to, was happy. That, he knows, has long been forgotten.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>au where the the dead have become the living, and they're all just trying to survive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, I've been a huge fan of the walking dead for a long time, and an even bigger fan of One Direction. And I just thought like, 'why not mesh two of my favorite worlds?' So here we are. Especially since I've noticed there's not that many Zombie Apocalypse AUs and I just really think the fandom deserves more. This is definitely going to be a long WIP, and I plan to make it somewhere from 10-15 chapters long. This first chapter is short (only about 5k) but the chapters that follow will probably be anywhere form 6-10k, and more than not on the latter. I really hope you enjoy this if you take the time to read it, and stick around for the very end. Also, I decided to only include Daryl from TWD in this because he is 1) one of my fave characters on that show, 2) I love the idea of Daryl and Louis being partners in crime (don't judge me on this), and 3) there wasn't much space for everyone else, oops. 
> 
> If you have any questions about the fic, or generally just wanna talk, you can find me on tumblr [here](ughhhlarryshippers.tumblr.com)

The world is dark around them. It’s been dark for a long time. Louis is sometimes sacred that he’ll forget what life was like before all this. Sometimes he fears that he won’t remember the way his mom used to smile at him over her cup of tea on Sunday mornings. Or the way there was always laughter to be heard in his childhood home, from five younger sisters and one little brother. Or the way it felt like living without simply existing. The way he could fall asleep at night and not wake up in a cold sweat, screaming or crying, or both. The way he didn’t always have to be scared that today is his last day and tomorrow is never a definite thing. He’s scared that time is infinite now, and because of that, he’s not even sure how long it’ll take him to forget. He’s scared that as infinite as time feels, his own is limited. Sometimes he’s sacred he’ll forget everything, that he’s already forgotten himself. Because the truth is that every time the world gets darker, Louis does too. And he can’t even remember the last time he felt something, smiled because he wanted to, was happy. That, he knows, has long been forgotten.

 

\--

 

                They’re always on the move. They’ve learned, through a lot of losses, almost-losses, and generally tough experiences that will take too long to fade out in their minds, that being immobile is practically digging their own grave when there’s not a stable place to stay. So Louis’ gotten used to not being able to feel his own feet anymore. They get numb rather quickly, and after that it just gets easier to keep going, just as he is now, eyes hot on Daryl’s back as he leads the way through.

                He’s not sure where they’re headed. None of them are really sure anymore. They’re not even sure if there’s any place out there for them to head to. It’s been a long time since the world caved in on itself, and the dead became the living and the living became the dead. Louis’ not sure how long. The last calendar he tried to keep track off got burned down with the last town they almost thought could keep them safe. Almost, unfortunately, is too far from definitely. But he guesses it’s approaching two years, probably even a bit over.

                There was a point, back when everything started, that Louis thought maybe in two years time things would be getting better. It seems that was the optimism in Louis that hadn’t left him yet. The one that tricked him into thinking that his mom, and his siblings, and plenty of his loved ones didn’t die in vain and that eventually, things would be okay for him. But that optimism’s been long gone replaced with realism, and he knows that back then he was just being naïve and hopeful. Because in two years time things have only gotten worse and Louis has no kind of wishful thinking left that they’ll ever get better.

                “Can we please stop for a second?”

                It’s Eleanor, and Louis doesn’t have to turn around to know that she looks on the verge of tears. It’s everyone in her voice, in the way she’s more pleading than asking. She’s tired, Louis knows that. She’s not used to this the way the rest of them are. They found her back in the town they almost called home once. She was important there, had a big, hot shot boyfriend who served to perfect the walls of the town from tumbling down, and the small town from being invaded by anything foreign. She never went hungry there, and before everything in that town quickly went to shit, she always had people protecting her. That meant that she never had to stay up late nights on watch, hunt for food, or walk for long periods just to get somewhere, just to survive. Even if it meant walking on little sleep, little water and empty stomachs. She’s not used to the vigorous lifestyle the rest of them are used to, had no choice but to get used to. The alternative to not adapting was not surviving, and as little as there is left to live for, Louis can’t deny that they’re all still fighting to live. Even if they’re not sure what for.

                They took her in because she had always been good to them, and she looked so fragile and alone standing there when the small town burned to the ground along with hopes and dreams they thought they had found  there. Back then Louis had vouched for her, felt sorry for the poor girl who was just starting to come to know the reality he had known long before. He still believed that doing good in this world meant something, even If it could potentially set them back. Now, Louis’ not sure whether if he were to come across someone like Eleanor again if he’d feel quite the same about it, if he’d even consider doing the same thing for whoever that they’ve done for her. He thinks, and it’s probably the worst part of it all, that he wouldn’t.

                Louis turns around for a second, knowing long before Daryl speaks what the answer will be. Eleanor’s already stopped though, legs giving out under her, sinking to the ground. She’s clutching her water bottle strapped around her shoulder, and though it’s been a good amount of months that they’ve been on the road like this with her, she hasn’t quite gotten used to any of it. The worst part for her seems to be rationing water. The all have their own canteens in which they fill weekly with the water they still have left. If it’s a good week, and they’re able to find more before the week is up, then they can fill their canteens within four days. It’s the only way to make things last. And yes, Louis always feels the thirst, but he’s able to fight it off. Eleanor, on the other hand, hasn’t gotten that part down yet.

                She reaches for the canteen pressed at the side of her hip, uncapping it swiftly.

                “Eleanor,” Louis warns, as she desperately brings the canteen up to her lips in attempt to quench the thirst she feels. It’s probably worse today than it is on others, the sun hot and scorching above them.

                “Leave her,” says Daryl behind him, “we’re not stopping. Catch up.”

                And then Louis hears the heels of Daryl’s boots turn, and the dirt crunch underneath every footstep after. Louis’ vision begins to haze, the sweat around his face fogging up his aviators. He watches for a bit more as Eleanor clutches onto her canteen, drinking the water so carelessly and eagerly that some drips down her mouth and chin. But that’s only for a beat longer before he starts following after Daryl again.

 

\--

 

                “Do you think Eleanor’s going to make it? Or was saving her all just a big waste.”

                It’s quiet all around them, as night spreads through the world and Zayn and Louis mind themselves with night watch. Louis doesn’t really mind night watch anymore, not the way he used to back when this started. He’s not sure whether it’s because it’s just another thing he’s gotten used to, or if it’s because he’s almost terrified of sleeping now. Sleeping now doesn’t mean the same thing for him that it did back then. Back when the world was simple, and Louis didn’t have an overbearing weight on his shoulders haunting him every second of his existence. It seems that now days, Louis’ dreams aren’t filled with silly, over imaginative stories, but instead they’re filled with nightmares he recognizes as realities. It’s as if there’s no escaping that anymore, the reality of everything he’s been through, everything the world has turned into. Every time he closes his eyelids, he can hear the screams of terror over the line as he talked to his mom for the last time just as chaos broke out all around them. He can see Greg standing before him, eyes shut and arm bleeding from where he’d been bit, waiting for Louis to just do it, just shoot him clean in the head. He remembers fires, and losses, and everyone and everything that’s ever been around him. And he finds it’s no more peaceful to be asleep than it is to be awake.

                He plays with the dirt underneath them, “she’s made it so far.”

                The truth is, Louis’ not sure if Eleanor is going to make it, and if he really had to bet on it, it’d be against her favor. But he still has that nativity clinging onto him, whispering in the back of his mind that he’s tired of watching people around him die. He knows better than to listen, but it’s still there.

                “Yeah, but Lou,” Zayn says, and his voice is shaking so Louis knows he’s scared. Zayn is a strong addition to their group, he always has been. He’s always done the hardest things, maybe so neither Daryl nor Louis would have to deal with more weight that they’ve already got. Maybe because he felt it was his purpose or something. Either way, he’s done what he’s had to do, and he’s never spoken about it, never complained or even showed an emotion. But Louis knows that things have broken him, things have shaken him. And he hears it all around Zayn’s voice now, because he has to be tired of losing people too. “She can barely keep up, and she’s horrible at saving her water. And you know how Daryl is, he won’t let up on her. At this rate, if this keeps going, she’s going to be dead by the end of the month if not from dehydration then from exhaustion.”

                Louis does know how Daryl is, and he knows that the chances of Eleanor making it are less likely than her not. But Louis’ done thinking about the future, something that’s become far too hard to predict. Things are going to happen the way they always were, no matter how much planning ahead Louis tries to do. Or any of them try to do. If Eleanor is supposed to make it she will, and if she’s not, no amount of training, no amount of trying, will make the difference.

                “Then she’ll be dead, Zayn. We did what we could.”

                He’s aware of how cold he sounds when he says it, but he figures trying to sugarcoat the truth never works out in anyone’s favor.

                Zayn is quiet after that, and only the sound of Louis’ fingers digging into the dirt can be heard around them. There’s obviously the occasional grunt from nearby walkers in the background as well, but that’s just something Louis has become conditioned to listening to. Sometimes he can’t even remember they’re there. Which is ironic isn’t it, because if they weren’t, maybe he’d still be having tea with his mom on Sunday mornings. Maybe he’d still be juggling little, innocent, Ernie and Doris on his lap. Maybe Greg would still be alive, maybe everyone he’s ever learned of or loved would still be alive too.

                “I wish Pez would’ve made it,” Zayn whispers, and if it weren’t so quiet around them, Louis wonders whether he would’ve heard it at all. He also wonders whether he was meant to hear it. Sometimes they just say things, things that feel like too much to just repeat inside their heads. Louis’ not sure whether now is one of those times, but he takes it as one anyways. He doesn’t say anything to that, but he nods, because he wishes she would’ve made it to. Unfortunately, that never made a difference in the long run.

 

\--

 

                There’s a rustle in the woods, where they’ve taken to hunting. Louis and Eleanor are paired up, having split from Daryl and Zayn taking to hunt on the opposite side of the woods. They always do this now, since their group is so small and the weaker members are easier to pick out from the stronger ones. Back when their group was broader, it was harder to tell. It seemed like what one person lacked, the other made up for. But now it’s obvious that Daryl and Louis are the ones who lead this small pack of wanderers, and though Zayn can pick up his own weight, Eleanor definitely can’t. Louis still has a bit more compassion left than Daryl does. Louis thinks that might be fair. He’s lost a lot of people himself, but somehow Louis still thinks Daryl’s lost more.

                He immediately reaches for his sword behind his back, taking a defensive stand. He hears Eleanor do the same, and they’re back to back looking out for something or someone to pop out of the bushes.  For all that Eleanor is unable to walk long miles or go countless hours without water, she’s extremely useful in combat. Louis thinks it’s because her boyfriend had taught her a bit of training back when they lived in Woodbury. And she’s just quick to pick it up. With the little time they had to teach her how to shoot, she quickly developed into a good shot. In that area, Louis’ never heard a complain peep from Daryl’s mouth.

                “Come on,” Louis whispers under his breath, eyes intent on the scene before him, watching and waiting. He doesn’t see more than the green leaved trees around them, but he knows what he heard, and he’s learned better by now to ignore even the smallest of noises.

                Right as Louis takes a step forward, there’s movement once more, and then there’s someone emerging from the bushes. Louis doesn’t waste any time trying to study them, not even enough to get a good look at them. He’s learned that the things that can come from that moment of hesitation, of assessment are not worth it. So he wrestles the stranger to the ground, with all the force he has, and once he has them secured underneath him, body over them to pin them to the ground, he plunges his sword right onto the ground next to their head.

                It’s only then that he allows himself to breathe, to look. It’s a boy, with eyes as green as the leaves around them looking straight at him, shocked expression clearly emphasized all over his face. His skin is tan from the sun, but Louis can tell that a time before this, the boy was pale. Maybe his skin was cream-like, maybe he looked nothing like he does now, with his hair overgrown to his shoulders, clearly faded and unkept, with a scarf wrapped securely around to hold it back from falling all around his face. He can also tell that this boy was probably beautiful before everything began, when beauty was actually a thing that mattered.

                “Who the fuck are you and what the fuck do you want?”

                Louis moves to grab behind him, the rope tucked inside his back pocket. He pulls it out quickly and reaches for the boys’ hands that are pinned to his sides by Louis’ knees. As the boy sees the rope come up from behind him, he quickly starts to squirm and for a moment Louis thinks he’s actually going to fight back. But then there’s the click of a gun, and Louis looks up to see Eleanor looming over them, gun staring directly down and pointing at the boy’s head.

                “Resist and I’ll shoot you square through the skull.”

                She sounds sure, and Louis has no doubt that she is. She would kill him, and it would be as easy as breathing, as long as she thought it kept them safe.

                “Jesus,” the boy says, the first word he’s said since Louis managed to get him pinned underneath him.

                “Give me your hands,” Louis instructs, ignoring the boy’s astonished eyes staring at them. Louis thinks if he’s genuinely surprised by their behavior, he’s not sure how long he’s been out and about, or how he’s made it so far. Honestly, had he comes across someone else, maybe even Daryl now, he thinks this boy would be dead.

                Louis eases up his knees on the boys’ hands to give him an opportunity to present them to Louis. Eleanor’s still right over them, so he’s not actually scared to give him some leeway. He knows that if the both were to even move the wrong way, he’d be dead underneath him in seconds. The boy looks hesitant as he raises his hands obligingly right in front of Louis, waiting for Louis to tie them up. He still looks taken back, and maybe even unsure of his own actions, but Louis ignores that for continuing to wrap the rope around the boy’s wrists.

                The boy hisses as Louis pulls, making sure they’re good and tight enough where if the boy tried to escape them, he’d cut off his own circulation before he was successful.

                “How many of you are there?” Louis asks, eyes still focused on the work being done on the boy’s wrists. It’s always the first question they ask.

                “What?” the boy sounds caught off guard, and more confused than before.

                Louis feels Eleanor shift over them, “did he fucking stutter?”

                Louis pulls on the rope and the boy instantly grunts underneath him. Louis spares him a moment and looks him in the eye. The boy is watching them both with his eyebrows furrowed, his lips pouted, and discomfort written everywhere.

                “The faster you tell me, the smoother this will all go for you”

                He secures the last knot, and then he’s getting to his feet. He grabs his sword from next to the boy’s head, wiping the dirt off with the gloves on his hands. Eleanor helps the boy up, taking advantage of Louis being armed to put away her gun away for only a second to haul him to his feet. The boy stumbles a bit as Eleanor holds a death grip to his shoulder, hands held together tightly enough in front of him where Louis can already see the red of irritation growing around them.

                He looks directly at Louis, a bit of a scowl on his face, but no words tumbling out. Louis raises his eyebrows at him, because if this is some kind of challenge, the boy isn’t going to win.

                “So?”

                The boy turns his head away, looking over to the vast green surrounding them. He sees the boy take in a breath before answering, “Eight.”

                Shit. That’s twice the size of their own group. He sees Eleanor’s eyes widen at him over the boy’s shoulders, but Louis doesn’t react. Instead he squares his shoulders because it’ll be okay, it’ll be fine. Maybe they’re outnumbered, but that doesn’t mean they’re overpowered. He managed to tackle this boy to the ground and tie him up in less than ten minutes he’s sure, which means the rest of the group can’t be too much of a threat if things do go south. As Louis suspects they will. They always do.

                “And where are the rest of them?” Louis asks, voice firm.

                The boy’s head snaps to him and he only looks more affronted than before.

                “Why the hell would I tell you that?”

                Louis tightens his jaw, “because if you don’t, then I’ll kill you. And then, more likely than not, we’ll find your group before they find ours and kill them too.”

                At that, the boy looks the most offended he’s look through their entire encounter. Even more so when Louis was tying up his hands, and Eleanor was threatening to kill spill his brains right there on the ground he lay.

                “What the fuck is wrong with you?” his voice gets a bit rougher, and Louis can see the anger clearly starting to form in his eyes as he looks at Louis, “we have a fucking kid with us—Jesus. What the fuck.”

                Louis wonders honestly, what this boy has been through to think that them having a child around would act as a buffer. He wonders if he’s been through anything at all, given the way he’s acting. Like their behavior is surprising to him, and they should be acting some other way. The Governor had a daughter as far as Louis can remember, and he was probably one of the sickest men Louis’ ever had the displeasure of trusting.

                “Then I’m sure you want her to live. So, where are the others?” Louis asks one more time, demeanor unchanged.

                The boy blinks a bit, chest rising and falling with the inhale and exhale of his rough breaths.

                He looks down to the ground, and Louis notices the torn up boots on his feet that Louis imagines were once nice, and clean.

                “I can’t tell you that,” he lifts his head and Louis sees desperation in his eyes instead of anger now, and it causes something inside his gut to stir. That’s emotion, and Louis doesn’t like it. Emotions kill you. “I don’t know you’re not going to hurt them.”

                “We won’t hurt you if you’re not trying to hurt us,” Eleanor says behind the boy, hand still gripping tightly onto his shoulder, other hand right over the belt of her gun, ready to grab a hold of it if needed.

                “I’m not trying to hurt you!” the boy’s own voice sounds pleading and like he’s extremely desperate for them to believe it. But Louis has lost his ability to tell when someone is being genuine, when someone means that they’re good and innocent. It’s been a long time since someone has sounded that way, and actually turned out to be what they preached.

                “Then why the hell did you sneak up on us?” Louis yells back, raising his voice a bit louder than they’ve learned is smart.

                “I didn’t!” the boy retorts, looking at Louis with something else that Louis’ not even sure what to pinpoint as in his eyes, “I was just walking about, and I heard some noise. I didn’t—I didn’t know if you were someone from my group, or someone else. And then I saw that you were strangers and I—we haven’t seen people in a long time, okay? We’re obviously walking the same territory, I wanted you to know of us before things got like this. Before things were misunderstood”

                “Bullshit,” Louis responds, because it has to be, it does. There’s no way the boy just came out to let himself be known. That would be careless, and dumb, because if Louis’ soul was all rotten and dug up like most people who are still alive are, then this boy would’ve been dead in minutes. And so would the rest of his group that he seems to care for so much.

                “Just walking about? Who fucking does that now days?” Louis interrogates, because he can’t believe a lick of what this boy is saying. It’s not logical in the world they live in today.

                “I was looking for the main road, okay? We’ve been camping out in the area for the past few weeks, maybe about a month, I don’t know. It’s hard to keep track of time,” the boy shakes his head, “Because we’re running low on food, and the kid is getting hungry, so we know that we need to move. We just aren’t sure where to go. That’s it.”

                And the thing is, the boy doesn’t look like he’s lying. But Louis doesn’t know what the truth looks like either, so he can’t call it that. He refuses.

                “You mean to tell me you haven’t been on the road this whole time?” Louis pushes, because that part he’d caught. It seems like they’ve just started their travels now. And that seems unlikely, seeing as the only break his group’s ever gotten was those couple months back in Woodbury that they were probably better off never having gotten at all.

                “No,” the boys shakes his head, “we haven’t. We’ve been fortunate, I see.”

                Louis shakes his head this time, grinning despite the lack of anything he feels inside, “or you’re just a fucking liar.”

                “I’m not fucking lying to you!” the boy explodes, but it’s only clear in the sound of his voice and nothing else. He doesn’t make a move to come at Louis, and he doesn’t even swing his tied hands around almost as if he knows better. “We lived on a farm. It was isolated from most people, and definitely far away enough from the city. When things started happening, we honestly barely felt the effects of it all. Some farms closer to the city got run over, but some of the neighbors came over to stay with us and some fled off. We had cattle, we had horses, we had manpower. We had what we needed to survive. We didn’t have to go anywhere.”

                “And then what happened?” Eleanor asks for Louis, but her voice is much softer than what his would’ve been. Because although the boy doesn’t look as harmful as Louis first imagines any stranger to be, he’s still not good at believing people. Words are emptier now than they ever were before.

                The boy closes his eyes, and that’s something Louis used to do back in the very beginning. When someone would ask a question like, ‘and what happened to your family?’ and memories of his last phone call with his mom would come storming in, flooding his mind and creating vivid images in his head. So much so that he just needed to shut his eyes for a moment, still the world around him so he could try to control everything running inside him. After everything though, Louis’ stopped doing that. He wonders if this is just the beginning for the boy, and that’s why he’s still so naïve.

                “A helicopter flew over us one night, and we—we were so excited, almost? We thought maybe things were getting better, we were being sought out for a developing community outside the small world we’d built for ourselves,” the boy opens his eyes, looks directly at Louis, “but really what happened was that the helicopter brought attention to us. And that night, right as we were putting Lux to bed, waiting for someone to come get us or something, we were overrun.”

                “Shit,” Eleanor says, and Louis shoots a glare her way before returning his eyes to the boy.

                “It’s a good story, but I don’t know how I’m supposed to believe it,” Louis says.

                The boy looks frustrated this time, “why the hell would I make that up?”

                And if he has to ask, Louis wonders whether everything the boy has said is true, and he thinks it has to be. It has to be if he’s asking questions like that and sounding genuinely concerned as to why anyone would make up a sob story in order to gain trust, only to later point a gun to their heads once they were in like they planned all along.

                Louis tries not to sigh.

                “I’m not equipped to make this decision,” he tucks his sword behind him, as he looks at Eleanor and then the boy. “Let’s find Daryl,” he concludes, because really, Louis was never going to decide what to do with the boy on his own anyways.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Killing and death, both are all around them all the time. However, no matter how good the reason for killing someone is, Louis knows that the dirt from it never really washes off your hands. Louis’ not even sure whether he could be considered smart anymore, or just like everyone else. A murderer. He pulls away from that thought, because it’s not something he should be thinking about right now. Right now, he needs to be thinking about how they’re going to survive the night, given things go as expected. He can’t be thinking about what he would do to survive, and what that makes him. He just needs to do it and survive._
> 
> So, it starts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to post these two chapters together there was a good chunk to read. The next chapter should be up by the weekend, if not by next week. I'm going to try to update at least a chapter every week, and maybe even two in one week if I have the time/feel the chapters are short enough. However, chapters from now on are probably not going to be short at all. Enjoy!
> 
> You can find me on tumblr [here](ughhhlarryshippers.tumblr.com) for a chat :-).

                Daryl’s a lot rougher with the boy than Louis ever would’ve been. As soon as he gets his hands on him, he punches him twice in the jaw, the noise of fists on bones echoing around them. The boy goes falling to the ground easily enough, unable to really do much else for himself. His hands are still tied, and the only weapon he’d been carrying with him—a knife— in their possession now. Even if he thought of defending himself, there’s not much he could do. Instead of drawing out any kind of attempt though, all odds easily against him, Louis watches as the boy squints his eyes in pain and huffs out a breath when Daryl kicks him about three times in the stomach.  

                When it comes time for Daryl to actually start questioning him, all the boys answers are the same as the ones he’d given to Louis. If the story is entirely made up, Louis will give him enough credit to admit that when it comes to keeping with his story, and lying straight through his narrative, he’s better at it than most people. There are always gaps, holes in the story they always catch onto, but Louis can’t seem to find any in his as hard as he tries.

                After the boy’s answered all his questions, Daryl lets go of his collar and throws him to the ground once more. For good measure, he also kicks him in the shin before turning around.

                Louis’ leaned back against a tree, arms crossed and one leg propped up. He catches Daryl’s eyes as Daryl’s body turns towards him and away from the boy breathing heavily on the ground.

                Louis holds his gaze. “So?”

                Daryl stops pacing for a moment, and looks at Louis straight in the eye. Louis can’t remember when he starting being able to tell everything Daryl was thinking with just one look, the simple shift of his eyes. But he can now, and he can tell that Daryl is thinking the same thing as himself. And it shouldn’t make sense, that both of them are thinking of actually believing what they boy is saying. It would be the first time, in a long time, that they’ve even considered trusting in someone’s word. That has to mean something, but Louis’ not sure what and that doesn’t sit well with him.

But Louis had told Daryl what the boy had said, and everything that’d happen with him before they even came face to face with one another, and he knows Daryl is observing the same thing Louis is. By now, there’s always a part that their subject fails. There’s always a hint of something that changes when they come in contact with Daryl after meeting Louis. It’s like the good cop, bad cop routine, and somehow Daryl manages to bring out the truth in every liar they’ve ever crossed by the time they get to him. Except for the boy lying down on the ground, in the center of the circle they’ve formed around him.

                “We should go to the camp. Sneak up unnoticed and just observe. Make sure this bastard is telling the truth before we decide on anything else,” Daryl gestures towards the boy on the ground, and something in Louis’ stomach flips. Because the fact that they’re even contemplating deciding on anything other than killing these people, getting them out of their way, is new. Not new, they’ve done it before. But far too long ago for Louis to even remember what it goes like.

                The boy on the ground moves a bit, and Louis sees blood mixed in with his saliva when he spits on the ground beside him. He struggles a bit to get on his back, looking up to Louis and then Daryl.

                “I have to know you’re not going to hurt them like you’ve done me. Half of them are women and—fuck. There’s a child,” he looks scared out of his mind now, much more than he ever did with Louis. Probably because he really wants to keep his group safe, and he seems to care a lot about this child he keeps feeling the need to mention. And the thing is, he’s wrong mostly. Maybe he should fear more for his own life around Daryl, but Louis still thinks he’d have an easier time shooting a child in the face than Daryl would. It’s a scary thought, but it wouldn’t be the first time he did in place of Daryl.

                “Shut up,” Daryl says, looking away from the boy and pacing around a bit more. Louis watches him carefully, though there’s no need for that. He’s past the point of having to really observe any of his group members to know what they’re thinking or feeling, more than not Daryl. He knows he’s nervous about this. What Louis has a hard time figuring out is what exactly he’s nervous about. Louis wonders if he’s nervous because it might turn out that the boy is telling the truth, and that’s not something any of them actually have experience in. In its own fucked up way, it would probably actually be easier for them if he wasn’t. Because the last time this happened, the last time people turned out to be exactly what they said they were, was when they found each other. And that was long ago. Or maybe he’s nervous because tonight one of them might die, on the likely chance that the boy is actually just a very gifted liar and his group is just waiting for them to fall into their plan. Or maybe it’s not that he’s nervous that one of them will die, because they might not. They might all make it, but that doesn’t mean people won’t die. It doesn’t mean Daryl might not have to point his crossbow at someone tonight, aim and shoot. It doesn’t mean that tonight, he might have to kill again.

                Killing and death, both are all around them all the time. However, no matter how good the reason for killing someone is, Louis knows that the dirt from it never really washes off your hands. Louis’ not even sure whether he could be considered smart anymore, or just like everyone else. A murderer. He pulls away from that thought, because it’s not something he should be thinking about right now. Right now, he needs to be thinking about how they’re going to survive the night, given things go as expected. He can’t be thinking about what he would do to survive, and what that makes him. He just needs to do it and survive.

                He looks to the boy on the ground, labored breaths escaping his mouth as he watches them.

                Louis kicks himself off the tree, looking down to the boy.

                “Listen,” he starts, “we’ve been over this. You either comply with what we’re asking, or you die anyways and mostly likely, so will they. We’ll have no reason to hurt your group if they’re exactly what you say they are.”

                The boy furrows his eyebrows, “you had no reason to hurt me either. I—I didn’t even come at you. Any of you.”

                “That’s precaution,” Louis defends easily, “strangers aren’t friendly, and if you even entertain that thought for a second, you’re as good as dead.”

                The boy just looks at him, eyes searching something on Louis’ face Louis is aware that he won’t find. Louis’ stopped giving things away with the look in his eyes, with the tilt of his mouth, with the quaver in his voice. All that, he’s trained to always be steady. He could be on the brink of death, and yet he’d never let the person doing the killing know he’s terrified. He’s not sure whether that’s because he’s become aware that emotion is a weakness, or because he has nothing left to feel. But again, that’s not something to put thought into now.

                “Is it really that bad out here?” the boys asks innocently, and for a second Louis believes him. For a moment all doubt creeps away. But then he sees the face of the men who killed half his group, men he trusted, flash behind his eyelids, and the doubt comes flooding back to him. That doubt keeps him alive, he reminds himself.

                He opens his mouth to answer, but Daryl beats him to it.

                “Are you taking us to your camp or not? The choice is yours. But let me tell you, you’ve only got one of two choices to make,” he holds up two fingers, “you live or you die.”

                The boy closes his eyes for a moment, and Louis knows he’s deciding inside his own head what is worth more. It never occurred to Louis until now, that all the while they’ve been deciding whether or not they can trust him, he’s been deciding whether he can or can’t trust them too. Louis guesses they haven’t made the best case for themselves, but that’s not the matter. They’re never interested in getting people to trust them, mostly because they’re not interested in having anyone’s trust. They have each other’s, that’s enough.

                He knows the boy’s answer before he speaks. Because it’s an obvious choice, is it not? If he decides against this, he’ll die right here, right now. If he agrees, and it turns out he’s lying, he’ll maybe still have a better chance of survival. Because his group will be right there, and maybe he can signal them faster than Eleanor can put a bullet through his head. It’s worth the try. Louis would take the risk too, if he were in his position.

                “Okay,” the boy whispers, and it sounds like nothing in the silence all around them. He opens his eyes and tries to meet theirs, “okay. But please, just—don’t hurt them.”

                Louis watches Daryl nod at Zayn, who goes quickly to grab the boy roughly by his arms and lift him to his feet. The boy is even clumsier this time around, ribs probably aching from the kicks Daryl gave them not too long ago. Louis can see a bit of a bruise start to form along his cheek where Daryl punched him too, and he almost hopes then that the boy is an awful liar.

                Louis extracts his sword from his back, holding it face down on his side. Daryl walks up to the boy momentarily, shoving past him just enough to get his backpack from the ground behind him.

                Louis catches the boy’s eye, taking a small step forward. The boy is nervous, and Louis doesn’t know if that means he’s really the liar Louis suspects, or he just doesn’t trust them at all not to hurt his group despite who they turn out to be.

                “Like I said,” Louis keeps his gaze leveled, “if you’ve been telling the truth, there won’t be a need to hurt them.”

                Just then Daryl comes back around, standing right beside the boy. The boy jumps a bit, backing up only as much as Zayn allows, tight grip on his arms.

                “But don’t forget that if you ain’t, you’ll be the first to go.”

                Louis watches as the boy stays steady, no flick of his gaze or gulp in his throat to give away that Daryl’s accusations make him even more a bundle of nerves. Instead, he just keeps watching as Daryl makes his way past him, adjusting the backpack to comfort.

                There’s a click of a gun, and Louis watches Zayn poke the end of his pistol to the back of the boy’s head in some kind of warning. The boy’s jaw tightens, but besides that, there’s not much more movement. And Louis hates that, hates that with every minute that goes by, there’s less and less evidence that this boy is lying. Because he’s sure to be disappointed when they reach his camp and realize he is. Louis doesn’t know how they’ll ever spare anyone a chance after this, if he really is. He doesn’t know how they’ve still managed to spare anyone one.

                “Let’s go,” Daryl says besides Louis, crossbow already in his hand.  He’s looking to the boy expectantly, waiting for him to start leading the way.

                The boy’s eyes flick from Louis to Daryl and back, and then he sighs. He sounds bit defeated, but his feet begin to move before Zayn has to push him along, and Louis’ not sure what to make out of any of it. When the boy passes between him and Daryl, Zayn’s grip on his arm tight, finger on the trigger even steadier, and Louis catches Daryl’s eyes—he can tell Daryl’s not sure what to make of anything either. They nod at each other, in some silent understanding that has come from everything they’ve endured together, and then they’re following, Eleanor close behind.

               

\--

 

                The trail to the boy’s camp is easy enough to follow. There are no ridiculous turns, or route changes that have Louis believing the boy is trying to lose them, trying to formulate some kind of distraction to give time for his group to ambush them. However, they’re all still on high alert. Daryl has his crossbow lifted over his shoulder, eyes focused on aim. Eleanor is the same, gun pointed straight all around them, finger on the trigger. Louis has his hand secured around his sword too, ready to lift it when necessary. If necessary.

                The boy only pauses a few times, seemingly trying to remember which way is which. That’s when Zayn digs the end of his gun closer to the boy’s skull as a reminder, and the boy quickly starts to move after.

                Louis hears it before the boy stops and attempts to turn. He hears the muffling of voices, far enough away to not be able to decipher words, but close enough to know the boy has indeed led them to his camp. Before the boy has a chance to say so, Zayn is shoving him against a tree, gun under his chin.

                “What the fuck,” the boy says, but his voice is relatively low.

                “Yeah,” Daryl warns, “better keep your fucking voice down.”

                The boy looks shocked, and almost betrayed.

                “You said you wouldn’t fucking hurt us. I got you here, I’ve done what you asked,” he sounds desperate, and if it weren’t for the gun threatening to blow his brains, Louis isn’t doubtful that in this moment he’d use force.

                “We’re not,” Louis says in an attempt to the calm the boy, for whatever reason. He’s not sure why he cares. Maybe because he still wants their word to mean something, among a world where no one else’s does. “We’re just going to check them out without you. If they’re what you say they are, you’re in the clear.”

                The boy grunts but stays quiet, rolling his eyes and then shutting them completely. He seems to have given up trying to convince them with words, and Louis thinks it’s good. It’s good that the boy understands early on that words are just so cheap. They mean nothing. That might be a bit hypocritical, considering Louis wants the boy to believe theirs. But if he knew, what they’d been through, everything they’ve lost, he’d probably understand why.

                “Just please,” the boy says, voice low and sad. Louis thinks that’s sad. Sad isn’t something he’s seen in a long time in his group. He thinks it takes too much out of them to feel sadness, to let it crawl into their bones and just stay there for a bit. Out of every emotion, that has to be the worst. If you let yourself feel it, feel the sadness of everything that’s happened, everything you’ve lost, you may never stop. And then you’re dead. So he has a hard time recognizing it as sad when the boy speaks, but he thinks that’s it. “Not the little girl. Please.”

                Louis doesn’t know what to say to that, so he says nothing. Beside him Daryl speaks.     

                “You two stay here,” Daryl nods his head at Zayn and Eleanor, “stay alert and don’t hesitate to kill if you have to. Louis and I will check out the rest of them.”

                Eleanor nods, gun already coming up, and Zayn does too, his face not turning from the boy’s in front of him who he’s keeping pinned to the tree.

                Louis looks to Daryl, who looks back for only a moment before starting to walk. Louis follows behind, his steps light, aware to not make too much noise. They never want to be seen first. There’s an advantage to being able to spot first, observe before you’re observed. Losing that may mean losing your life. 

                They crouch down enough where they can’t be seen over the bushed surrounding the little camp they boy’s group has managed to set up. When they approach closer, careful to not step on anything on the ground that could alert the group that they’re there, Louis can easily make out the people before him. There’s an RV there, and definitely what the group has been using for travel. It looks old, but also extremely useful. They have a bit of a fire pit going on in the center, where Louis can easily make out a woman with platinum blonde hair sitting down on a log, a small girl with hair just as white sitting down on her lap. That must be the little girl the boy has wanted to protect so bad.

                She’s cute, with her big, blue eyes and small hands that reach up to tug on her mother’s—or who Louis assumes is her mother—hair, smiling innocently the way any child would. It sends a series of memories to tumble down the front of Louis’ mind. Memories of all his sisters when they were that age. So playful, and young, and unaware of all the bad in the world when the bad was less complicated than the one that inhabits the world today. He remembers his last, little sister, who could be the girl’s age now if things would’ve been the way they were supposed to. If the world would’ve just kept turning, and nothing would’ve become what it has. It sends him kneeling all the way down to the ground, breath caught somewhere in his throat as he remembers every single face of all his siblings. His siblings, who he wasn’t there to protect, to keep alive, to do for them what he’s done for himself and, virtually, a group of strangers.

                He doesn’t expect it to hit him so hard. It’s not the first child he’s seen since he lost his sisters and little brother. But it’s been a long time. And maybe it’s the first child he’s seen who looks a bit like them, happy and eyes wide and curious and so blue. It’s like this child is still that. They haven’t been tainted yet, and that does something to him he wishes it didn’t.

                He tries to calm himself, Daryl’s eyes boring in the side of his face as Louis clutches at his chest.

                “I’m fine,” he says before Daryl has a chance to ask. He’s not sure Daryl even would. Daryl never does. Maybe because he expects them all to say the same thing, but still knows better than to believe it. But Louis has to say it anyways, even if just for himself. Because he needs to pull himself together, he needs to be fine. And maybe saying it enough times will make it true.

                “I’m fine,” he says again, briefly shutting his eyes in an attempt to gain control. He grabs onto that, that bit of control he’s yet to lose despite everything, and then he opens his eyes. He’s on his feet easy enough, crouching down at Daryl’s level to look over the bushes once more, keep observing. Because the goal still remains the same. The goal is still to survive, and he knows he can’t do that if he lets things get to him.

                A girl comes out of the RV, a girl who looks oddly familiar before Louis realizes why. She looks just like the boy Zayn has held against a tree right now, gun digging into the flesh of his chin. She’s probably the exact spitting image, except with significantly longer and lighter hair. It has to be his sister, if not a very close relative. Louis hates that he feels envious about that. About how the boy may still have his sister with him, but Louis lost all of his. He shakes his head out of it though, because that’s not what’s important. He can’t begrudge himself with things he can’t change, he knows that. So he doesn’t know why it matters to him that the boy could keep his sisters alive and he couldn’t. But that’s probably it isn’t it? Shit.

                He almost misses the boy following behind her. The first boy of the camp he’s seen. He narrows his eyes, because all the women so far have seemed harmless enough, nothing he can’t handle if they were still to turn out the way most people do. Though, Louis finds that becoming less and less likely. He still pays close attention to the boy, because men have turned the most bitter in this world, capable of the most horrid things if all he’s gone through has taught him anything about people in the world they now live in.

                But the boy is grinning at the boy’s sister, holding folded clothes in his hand as he follows her some place to the side of the RV. Louis hears his laugh then, booming through their small space and he jumps. He doesn’t remember the last time someone laughed like that around them. If it isn’t for the noise level, than it’s for the lack of anything they are able to find amusing enough to even get a genuine smile on their faces.

                He turns to look at Daryl, who turns to look at him at the same time. And he knows they’re thinking the same thing again. They haven’t seen people this at ease, they haven’t seen people smile this much, since the Apocalypse first started. It seems all these things have been lost in everyone they’ve come across until now. And it’s hard to believe these people could point a gun to their heads, shoot without thinking even twice about it. It’s hard to imagine them being tough and cruel the way so many people have turned. And Louis doesn’t know if that’s a good thing. Everything he’s been through so far tells him it’s not. These people, as good as they may be, won’t make it if they stay like this. Being good in this world isn’t worth a dime anymore. But, still. There’s something refreshing about it. But also unsettling, that they’d been wrong about the boy and his camp, and that there’s still people like this left. Louis wonders how many more. How many more are still living based off more than just surviving. How many more.

                “You should get the others,” Daryl whispers so low it takes Louis a moment to make out his words. He stares at his lips though, makes them out through that and the bit that he’s caught.

                He knows what he’s saying, he knows what he’s suggesting, and yet, he can’t believe that this is how things are turning out. He’s stunned for a second, unable to register much and move. Then he hears another laugh, and his head turns so fast he’s surprised he doesn’t get whiplash. It’s the little girl, giggling uncontrollably as the boy lifts her up in the air, playing joyfully with her. And he thinks—he thinks this can’t be real. It can’t. But then he stops thinking altogether. He stops thinking, and he turns his head away. He nods swiftly, and goes even more so. He goes, getting away because he has to, because this is a lot. And it has to be horrible, horrible that Louis is more affected by this than he would’ve been had they come to approach a group of violent men. It has to, but it just would’ve been. It would’ve been expected, it wouldn’t have caught Louis so off guard that it had him stopping at a tree a few feet away, unable to keep going because his breath is lost somewhere he can’t reach. Christ. He needs to relax, just breathe through it.

                He closes his eyes for a second, the beating of his heart ringing inside his head. He almost doesn’t hear it. He almost doesn’t hear the walker getting closer and closer to him with every beat of his heart that can’t seem to get any quieter inside his head. But there’s still instinct in him. Instinct he’s built off everything he’s gone through, instinct he’s obtained to keep himself alive. So his eyes go flying wide, heart still stammering against his chest, and then he’s turning before the walker is even close enough to him for it to make a difference.

                Louis doesn’t even bother sparing a glance at it, deciding its gender or who or what they’ve could’ve been before they turned into this based off their clothing. He used to do that back then.  Because there was some guilt he felt then killing these things, the knowledge that they used to be people resting heavily in the front of his mind. But that’s been long replaced by an overbearing rage for them. He hates these things, have watched them kill and rip at the flesh of too many people whose hearts were still beating, whose brains were still functioning.

                He leaps forward, fingers wrapped tightly on his sword as he lifts his shoulder and then, with perfect precision, slides it through the walker’s brain. The walker goes limp instantly, death clear in the lack of disgruntled noises coming from its mouth. And Louis knows it’s dead, and that there’s no reason for him to aggressively keep stabbing it repeatedly over and over in its head until there’s barely an outline of it left. All there’s left is guts and blood and brains where a head used to be.  But he’d be damned if that didn’t finally get the beating of his heart to calm down.

                He removes his sword gently from the ground, and turns to walk back to where he knows Zayn, the boy, and Eleanor are waiting for them. He walks in a steady pace, knowing there’s not much of a need to get there so fast.

                When he reaches them, Eleanor’s gun is pointing at him so quickly he knows if he were anyone else, posing an actual danger, there would be no way to escape the bullet that would follow. He catches her eye though, and he sees her release a breath. Her eyes go to his sword automatically. He didn’t clean it after he’d taken out the walker, so there’s blood and guts all over it.

                “What did you do?” the boy in Zayn’s hold is asking, and he moves actually. Zayn presses his gun further into his chin, roughly throwing him back against the tree and Louis watches as his finger presses down on the trigger a bit.

                “It was a walker,” Louis quickly says, and then Zayn’s eyes are on him, his nudge on the trigger lifting. The boy’s eyes are still angry, and Louis thinks that might be because he doesn’t believe him.

                “You weren’t lying,” Louis adds, taking the moment to wipe his sword down. The boy’s eyebrows are still pinched and his lips are still pursed. Zayn and Eleanor look unsure, and eager for more information as they exchange a look.

                “We didn’t see all the members,” Louis continues, “but we saw two girls and one boy, also the child. They look harmless. Daryl said to come get you.”

                Zayn looks back to the boy, whose forehead is finally starting to smooth out. He looks grateful, and thankful, and so relieved. Louis doesn’t remember the last time he saw anyone look like that.

                “Do we--?” Zayn gestures to the boy’s tied hands, but Louis shakes his head. Daryl didn’t say, but there are still three members left, three members they haven’t seen yet. In case the off chance the other three don’t end up being the same as the rest of the boy’s camp, they need to keep the boy as bait. 

                “Just don’t point the gun at his head,” Louis decides, because that seems mostly fair. Zayn nods and back away, giving the boy the most space any of them having given him since they came across him.

                Louis nods at the boy, “let’s go. Stay behind me, and still don’t try anything funny because no one will hesitate to take you out. Also, don’t just go running up to your group. You wait until we get there and Daryl tells us what to do. Got it?”

                The boy nods curtly, avoiding looking too long at Louis. Louis doesn’t say anything else. Instead, he turns and continues to walk back the trail he came from. He feels the boy, Eleanor, and Zayn come behind him, walking slowly and carefully. The boy is the only one who is extremely not careful. He steps on branches way too many times, and clumsily almost loses his balances more times than that. Louis shoots him a glare over his shoulder, to where the boy holds up his tied hands in form of an apology. Louis simple just reminds him to be quiet.

                Louis is still not sure what the plan is. They haven’t discussed that bit yet, and really, it’s been a long time they’ve had to do more than battle it out with a group. He’s not sure what happens when they get there. Do they just hand the boy over? Apologize for the bruising that’s started to form on the boy’s face, blame it on precaution, and then go on their way? Louis doesn’t know what Daryl would like to do. He knows that strength is usually built on numbers. But from he’s observed, with their group that’s not necessarily true. And who’s to say they’d even want to join them?

                He shakes his head out of it, because it’s not his call to make anyways. Daryl is waiting for them a bit further from where they were observing when they get there. They’re still covered by green, far enough where the rest can’t see them, but close enough for Louis to realize there are more voices than when they were watching.

                “Two more joined,” Daryl confirms Louis’ observation, “a boy and a girl. Boy looks just about as useless as the other. Girl seems alright. Got a knife strapped on the back of her boot.”

                Louis nods, as the boy says, “That’s Glenne. And Jeff, probably.”

                They all look over at him, and Louis looks at him with a bit more intrigue as he wonders why the boy thought it necessary to give them their names. They don’t even know his.

                “What now?” Eleanor asks, obviously as clueless as to what to do with this as the rest of them, and ignoring the boy’s useless gift of information.

                Daryl keeps looking at Louis, and Louis hopes he’s not looking for some kind of guidance in this. He’s expecting Daryl to have it figured out. After all, this is the one and only group Louis has ever been a part of, but he knows Daryl has had his fair share. He has more experience in this. And they always look to him anyways, always trust in what he wants to do. Louis doesn’t know why it just always went that way, Daryl being their silent leader from day one. But it’s never managed to fail them. Any casualty they’ve had has just been life, the way things were written to go like.

                “We hand the kid over, let them know who we are and to stay the hell out of our way. And then we go,” Daryl instructs. No one nods, and the boy doesn’t have anything to say to that. Louis can’t help but feel like though, that maybe Daryl’s not making the right call. Maybe their group isn’t highly skilled but maybe they can train them to be. Kind of like they’ve done with Eleanor. She’s not a solid addition to their group, but she’s not useless either. She holds her weight where it matters. And these people, they seem solid for other things too. For one, they’ve got a place they can stay in for a bit. They’ve seemed to make that RV a comfortable little home, and they made the farm their home at one point too. They’ve managed to survive until now, and maybe it’s not for the same ways their group has, but maybe that’s the point. Maybe they can find a home with them. Maybe their headed somewhere, maybe they can finally stop traveling the road. Because Louis knows that Daryl has to be as aware of it as the rest of them are how dangerous that is. If they don’t end up running into a swarm of walkers that’s too large for them to take out, they’re going to end up walking into a group that’s too violent for them to fight off. And Louis wasn’t sure a couple of hours ago, when Zayn asked him about Eleanor, if he’d want to take in a group of strangers and make them one of them. But he thinks this is a bit different, because they could be beneficial to their survival instead of just a useless add on.

                But as much as the argument is on the tip of Louis’ tongue, he doesn’t say anything. He nods. Because the boy’s head is bent down and he hasn’t uttered a word in how he doesn’t prefer this. So, maybe he does. Maybe he wants them to be gone as quickly as they ever came.

                The nods follow after that, with Zayn first and Eleanor after.

                “Just remember,” Daryl says as they start walking again, Zayn’s grip returning to the boy’s arm, “we don’t know these people. They might seem harmless now, but if any of them try anything stupid, don’t hesitate.”

                Daryl leads them to go around the back, so they still hold the element of surprise and therefore still have the upper hand. Louis notices that although they’re not looking for a fight, they all still have their hands on their weapons, ready to go if they need to.

                There’s a lot of noise and chatter as they round the corner. Louis and Daryl are at the forefront of their group, Zayn and Eleanor and the boy are behind them.

                When they come into the group’s sight, Louis meets eyes with the boy’s sister first. She looks a bit taken back, but then her mouth gapes completely open and her eyes go extremely wide when Louis knows she’s caught sight of her brother.

                There’s a swift movement, and Louis’ sword is up before he even realize where it’s coming from.

                “Don’t,” Daryl warns beside Louis, and Louis sees the girl—Glenne he thinks—reaching to the back of her boot. She stops at Daryl’s words. His crossbow is faster than her knife will ever be. “You don’t wanna do that.”

                She looks like she’s ready to pounce on him, slit his throat and dig his grave. But she doesn’t reach again. She stands straight instead, eyes glaring daggers their way, hands up in surrender. He sees the woman with the platinum blonde hair stands from the log, grabbing her child and forcing her behind her.  The little girl peaks behind her legs, eyes darting around all them the same way Doris’ used to whenever Jay and Dan were having an argument in the other room. They’re scared of them. They think they’re going to hurt them. Louis’ grip on his sword loosens.

                “H, your face. Jesus Christ,” the boy’s sister says, same accent as her brother’s. She takes a step forward, concern all over her features as her eyes look on to her brother behind Louis and Daryl. Louis feels Daryl fidget beside him, his weapon still lifted over his shoulder.

                “It’s okay, Gem,” the boy reassures her, but his sister looks far from convinced. “They don’t want any trouble.”

                “How the fuck are you going to say that, Harry?” Glenne—Louis thinks, the girl with the knife hidden behind her boot, asks. So, Harry. That’s his name.

                Just then, someone else emerges from the RV. It’s a boy, and at the sight of him Louis’ sword comes up defensively. This boy, this is the kind of boy Louis would’ve come across on the road and fought to the death. He looks like all the men that have tried to kill Louis in the past, have successfully taken out members of their once larger group. He’s bulky and big, clearly strong and able to snap Louis’ neck if he wanted to. Louis’ got skills, sure, but he’s aware that he doesn’t have an advantage in the size department. He’s smaller than most, and the rationing of food lately hasn’t done anything to help that. The guy’s eyes go wide as he looks at the group of them. He has army clothes on, and Louis wonders if those are borrowed, found, or his. His hair is a bit long on top of his head but Louis can tell that’s only because it’s unkept. It was short a time before this.

                The boy quickly goes for the gun strapped onto the belt around his waist and that’s when the boy yells, ferociously and with an authoritative tone to his voice Louis didn’t think he had.

                “Liam, don’t!” and the guy—Liam—pauses. His eyes are still wide and he still looks on the verge of grabbing the gun, but he doesn’t move for it again. He stays still, looking over Louis to where the boy—Harry, his name is Harry, stands behind them.  “If you do that, we’re all dead and it’s not worth it because they’re not trying to hurt us, okay? Just, don’t do that.”

                “Listen to your boy, man,” Daryl reinstates. The guy’s eyes flash anger when they look at Daryl, but his hand slowly moves away from the belt on his waist, and comes back to the side. He hears Harry let out a breath behind him.

                Daryl and Louis turn their heads to look at one another, and Daryl nods at him. Louis nods back, knowing exactly what he’s supposed to do. He turns for a second, without actually giving his back to the group that keeps watching them, and grabs Harry from Zayn’s grip. Harry goes easily, maybe even inching closer to Louis’ side.

                “If you even try to shoot at us, or kill us once we hand him over, I promise all of you will be dead,” Daryl warns. Harry turns to look down at Louis, and Louis barely looks back before he’s letting his fingers relax against Harry’s arm. He releases him, and Harry goes stumbling forward a bit as his sister opens his arms wide for him to come in. Louis blinks, because he doesn’t really remember the last time anyone was that eager to hug him. Maybe Greg, back in the beginning, when Louis had gone into a hospital to get them some medicine with Daryl. They knew it was overrun, but they also knew that if they didn’t do that for their group, half of them would drop like flies by morning. They died anyways, but at least not there, not then.  Louis at least managed to save them for the moment. And Greg had been scared Louis wouldn’t return, that when he had, he’d held onto him like maybe if he held on tight he’d never have to say goodbye. In the end, it was Louis who had to say goodbye to him.

                He watches as Harry’s sister clutches onto him tightly, arms touching everywhere to make sure he’s okay, he’s alright, and they didn’t hurt him anymore than throwing a couple punches. Louis feels Daryl’s eyes looking at him, but he doesn’t look back.

                “We didn’t want to hurt him,” Louis says, and he’s looking right at the back of Harry’s head as his sister coddles him, “it’s just precaution.”

                His sister lets him go, in favor of letting Glenne reach for her knife behind her boot and undo his hands. Louis knows if she even tried, she’d be dead, and also knows of their stances have changed; they’re still ready to go, so his eyes don’t narrow too much as she cuts through the ropes.

                “Look at his face,” his sister says, and her voice shakes in a way that gives off that she’s scared, maybe even mad, also probably frustrated, “why would you have any reason to do that?”

                “You’ll learn soon enough that if you ain’t careful with people, you’re as good as dead. This ain’t your farm house, this is the real fucking world,” Daryl sounds bitter, but Louis thinks that’s fair. He has a right to be bitter. There are things inside of Daryl that are broken that have not yet broken in the rest of them. “And in the real fucking world, you die if you trust blindly.”

                No one from the group says anything. They all stay quiet as they watch them, terrified expressions held on their faces. Louis watches as the ropes finally come off of Harry’s hands, and they’re red everywhere, the mark from the rope easily not going to wear off anytime soon. Glenne runs her fingers pass them, like she’s sorry and the boy hisses although he shakes his head like he’s alright. And Louis wonders what they must see when they look at them. Do they see the people who are still people, just doing whatever it is they have to, to survive? Or do they see the same things in them that Louis saw in the eyes of the men who snapped Perrie’s neck back in Woodbury?

                “So, what now? Do you just take all our stuff and expect us to do nothing about it because you’re sparing our lives?” His sister asks, her arms coming over to cross over chest. She looks defensive as she looks Louis straight in the eyes, and it’s a bit funny. Because everything about her screams harmless. Down to her blue overalls, a bit smudged from the dirt, her hair loosely tied up in a messy bun on top of her head, and her wide eyes green and child-like like her brothers. She doesn’t even have a weapon on her, and Louis thinks that even if she did, there’s probably not much she’d be able to do with it. That even if that’s really what they planned on doing, they’d be able to do it without her trying to stop them and coming out successful and alive. But still, she resonates this strength of character, and Louis thinks that’s sometimes as important as physical strength.

                “No,” he shakes his head. They’re not monsters. Not entirely. Not yet.

                “What happens now,” Daryl elaborates, “is that we go on our way, and tell you not to even think of trying anything stupid. If you stay out of our way, we’ll stay out of yours. And we’ll probably be gone by morning so I think we can manage that.”

                The girl looks skeptical as she watches them, but eventually her arms fall from her chest and she nods.

                “Wait,” Glenne says, “how are we just supposed to believe you’re not going to kill us?”

                “Well, we haven’t have we?” Daryl snaps.

                “They won’t,” Harry says, and Louis looks at him as he looks down to Glenne right beside him. Louis wonders how he can vouch for them. He doesn’t know them. And the bit he spent with them they weren’t good to him. There’s really no reason for him to think they’re not terrible, awful people that would do something like this. Trick them into believing their safe just so they let their guards down enough for them to come and kill them, take everything they have, when they least expect it. But yet, he looks sure and sounds sure as he says it. Maybe Louis is a bit envious that these people haven’t lost everything that makes someone human they way he has.

                “They’re just protecting themselves. And we want to protect ourselves too, okay?”

                Glenne nods, but she looks more doubtful than Harry does.

                Daryl doesn’t say another word before turning around, weapon still in his hand if he needs to use it. Louis locks eyes with Harry for a second, before nodding once and then starting to turn. That’s it, then. Louis really doubts they would try to attack them now that they know of them, and Louis knows their group is done with them as well. So, this is where they part ways, and Louis doesn’t spare them another thought. Doesn’t think about teeth biting into the little girl’s flesh if they carry on being so careless. Doesn’t think about who dies first and who dies last in their group and when. He carries on his days the same he did before today. And he keeps surviving as they all don’t.

                “Wait,” Harry—he’s sure it’s Harry—calls out. They all turn around quickly, weapons up. Harry puts his hands up in surrender, bearing peace. Louis can see the mark of the ropes clearly now all around his wrists. It looks like the rope dug in, burned a bit of flesh off. Louis thinks that as tight as he secured it, there’s no reason to doubt that it did.

                Harry takes a couple of steps forward, and Louis sees from his peripheral his sister reach out for him but not doing much else to stop him. They’re still terrified of them; they still think he’s going to hurt this boy and the rest of them without having reason to. And so, as if he has something to prove to them, to himself and his humanity, he lifts his sword to put it away as Harry approaches him a bit more.

                “What the hell are you doing?” Louis hears Daryl snarl beside him, but he doesn’t look over. Instead, his eyes stay on Harry, who looks a bit surprised of Louis’ actions as well.

                “What?” Louis asks, and he doesn’t know why he cares for what he has to say. And he’s not sure he actually does. But he knows he wants to hear it.

                “Look, I know we don’t look like the most able group or anything. But we have like food, and water, and we’re able to hold our own weight for the most part. We also have a means of transportation, and,” he looks down to the ground for a second, to the dirt on his boots but Louis keeps looking at his face, “I want us to survive and I think maybe even we—if maybe, we merged--”

                There’s a gasp behind him Louis thinks belongs to his sister, “Harry!”

                “No way, kid,” Daryl’s saying before Harry even finishes or Louis is able to give in his two cents. His head turns, and before he can say anything, Eleanor’s speaking.

                “Daryl,” she says, and for the first time since they’ve come face to face with this group, Louis is aware that he’s not the only one who doesn’t want to just part from them. The problem is, that someone isn’t Daryl. Because he becomes livid after that.

                “No fucking way!” he yells at her, but he does it so often Eleanor doesn’t even flinch, “we don’t even fucking know ‘em. And we definitely don’t need to be worrying about more people. No. No fucking way. Thanks for the offer kid, but you’re on your own.”

                He turns before Harry even has a chance to speak, before anyone else has a chance to speak. He doesn’t wait for any of them to follow right behind him, he just keeps walking away. Louis looks back at Harry, who’s looking back at him too.

                Louis sighs, because he knows why Daryl’s so against this, but he also knows the dangers of keeping to travel by foot, and more than not, traveling in such a small pack. Maybe if they did this, if they just tried it out, they wouldn’t have to keep rationing water as bad as they do. Maybe they’d be able to stop for more than just hours in a day, for shit sleep, and not much rest. Maybe they could start doing more than blindly using their instincts to survive. Maybe, and only maybe, there could be a future for them somewhere. Louis knows Daryl has to be as tired of all this as he is. Even more so. Daryl’s seen a lot of failure in past groups of his. Doesn’t he want success in one?

                And Louis knows that Daryl’s aware if things don’t work out, they could just head back on the road on their own. Why couldn’t they? Who’d stop them? They’re stronger than these people, they could kill them if they ever did anything to betray their trust. It’s still risky, Louis is aware of that. But they’ve taken risks before that have been worth it. This could be another one.

                He looks at Zayn and Eleanor, “stay here.” He turns to Harry, still watching Louis carefully, eyes pleading for them to at least try, “I’ll be back,” he whispers and then he’s turning to jog after Daryl.

                He finds him not too far away, retrieving a bow from a walker’s head. Louis watches him for a moment, and then he breathes. He thinks it’s a bit wild, the way Daryl doesn’t even turn around to check if it’s him. He knows that Daryl just knows, the same way Louis would if the roles were reversed. He’s also sure he knows what he’s about to say.

                “It’s not a horrible idea,” is what first comes out of Louis’ mouth.

                Daryl wipes his bow on his pants quickly, before reaching to his back to place it on his crossbow. He turns around, his face stoic as he looks at Louis.

                “It’s a horrible idea,” Daryl throws back, “why the hell would we want to team up with them? You saw what they’re like. Shit, they’d weigh us down more than Eleanor already does.”

                Louis balls his hands into fists at his sides. He never tries to get angry with Daryl, but sometimes his walls come up so high it’s hard for even Louis to climb over them.

                “Because you know as well as I do that we can’t keep going like this and live. Never mind that if we were to come across another aggressive group, odds are mostly bet against us. Seeing as four people is a small group, no matter how skilled we are,” Daryl turns his head, but Louis knows he’s listening to him.  “Strength lies in numbers and we can teach them. They’ve got skills we might need, anyways. If they can run a farm, I’m sure they’ve got plenty of inventive ways of how to come up with food. I’m sure they have clothes, beds, an RV. Different things we don’t have but we’re going to need to survive.”

                Daryl shakes his head, eyes still averted from Louis, “we don’t know them.”

                “No,” Louis confirms, “we don’t. But they haven’t tried to kill us although it definitely looks like we tried to kill one of theirs. More than not, they’re just scared of us. Which might work in our favor until we know we can definitely trust them.”

                It’s quiet around them as Daryl takes his time to respond. Louis knows that’s a good thing if Daryl isn’t responding right away. It means his mind isn’t made up yet, it means he’s actually listening to Louis’ logic and letting it persuade him. That’s the good thing about Daryl. He’s a leader, and ultimately, every decision is left for him to make, but he listens to his group.

                “I don’t know if I can ever trust ‘em,” Daryl admits, and Louis knows that’s an honest concern.

                “Me either,” he admits as well, “but we could try.”

                Daryl finally looks at him, “what makes you think this will turn out different than anyone else we’ve ever tried to trust? It never works.”

                And no, it hasn’t worked since they found each other. Everyone has turned their backs on them, waited until they did the same to plunge a knife to theirs. But they still managed to find each other way back then, and they’ve managed to keep each other up until now. And it’s clear, as much as Louis hates to really admit it to himself, that these people have yet to be turned cruel from this world. Maybe one day they will be, and maybe one day Louis will have to kill them they way he’s had to kill others. But also, and though he doesn’t even trust in the possibility much himself, they might end up like the four of the remaining members of their group have. Louis still wants to believe that there’s some good left in people, in himself, even if he really doesn’t.

                “It worked with us,” Louis says. Daryl scoffs.

                “That was a long time ago. Shit’s different now, you know that.”

                Louis does know that. But again, maybe not for these people. Not yet.

                “Maybe not with them. Maybe it could work,” and he doesn’t want to give more than that because he’s not sure it will, and he’s even less sure that he believes it will. Daryl has a point when he says they don’t know these people. They don’t. But, Louis also knows that what they’re doing now isn’t going to be very effective in a short time coming. They have to take a risk with this, because it might be the only thing they come across in a long time that even has the slightest possibility of working.

                “Why do want to do this so bad?” Daryl asks, because it’s definitely not like Louis to want this either.

                Louis bites down on bottom teeth, words caught somewhere in his throat. He wants to say he’s tired of this. He’s tired of their travels, of not having a place to call home, of always being wary of people around him. He’s tired of being cold, and alone, and bitter. He’s just tired. He swallows all that down, because even if they do this, that might not change.

                “Because I think maybe we can find, maybe even build, something solid with them. And I think we need that, and I think you think the same,” he says instead. Because it sounds stronger, like the way Louis is supposed to be.

                Daryl’s eyes study him and it takes a bit for Louis to finally look back. But when he does, he knows Daryl’s already agreed with him. There’s a bit of a twitch to Louis’ mouth, almost like the ghost of a smile. It doesn’t really go beyond on that, though.

                “I still ain’t gonna hesitate to shoot any of them in the fucking head if any funny business goes on,” it’s more of a statement than a warning.

                Louis nods, because it’s more than he can ask for from Daryl. And also, Louis knows that’s still the best way to go about this. They head back together, side by side and shoulder to shoulder, no other words being exchanged between them.


End file.
